


Loneliness of the Long Distance Watcher

by redeem147



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Introspection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-15
Updated: 2011-08-15
Packaged: 2017-10-22 15:30:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/239552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redeem147/pseuds/redeem147
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Giles receives some sad news. Post series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Loneliness of the Long Distance Watcher

It never ended. One girl, after another, tracked down and told she was a Slayer. The great army of Buffy, and he was expected to be in charge. To find each one a Watcher. Even though there were so few left in the world. So few that even Andrew had seemed a satisfactory compromise.

It hadn’t been his idea. His hand had been forced by the First, finding all the Potentials he could to save their lives. He didn’t think he would have chosen Buffy’s way, either, activating them all at once. That had seemed a good idea at the time, the only idea, perhaps. Again, his hand had been forced.

He was exhausted, yet he was getting very little sleep. It had started gradually, nights trying to find a little peace. Just a drink before bed.

Now he was relying on it, trying to keep the others from seeing. Still, relying on alcohol was probably better than the dark magicks of his youth. Or would that be next?

The others. A handful of Watchers who had survived, basing their operations in London. Training their charges here. Miranda, who he saw casually when either was convenient and available for the other. Seemed to happen less and less. Buffy and Willow were voices on a speaker phone. Xander rarely contacted him.

He longed for his horses, for the freedom of the ride. This small London flat was stifling.

When he looked in the mirror, the face seemed that of a stranger, worn and lined. He should shave.

Perhaps later.

The knock on the door shook him from his revery. Probably another new girl.

He didn’t expect to see Wyndam-Pryce on the other side of the door.

“Roger,” he said, “This is a surprise. Come in.”

The old man followed him into the living room, looking at him with distain.

“I’m sorry.” He rubbed his chin. “I haven’t had a chance to shave today.”

“Of course not,” Wyndam-Pryce replied. “It’s only three in the afternoon. I don’t suppose you’d mind finding me a seat.”

“Sorry.” Giles picked the loose papers from the sofa and gestured. “Please, sit down.”

“I would have called, but I supposed you might want to hear this in person.”

“Why, what’s happened? Have you reconsidered?”

“Of course not. I want nothing to do with this ill-conceived ‘new council’ of yours.”

“Then...?” Giles asked.

“It’s a personal matter. My son, Wesley, who I believe you knew in California, is dead.”

Giles head snapped up. “My God. Roger, I’m so sorry.” He cleared his reference books from the nearby chair and sat down, his voice softening. “What happened?”

“As you know, he’d been working with Angelus and Wolfram and Hart. I should think that would be explanation enough. I wanted you to know, since I knew you were trying to contact former Watchers.” Roger used his cane to stand. “So, he will be of no use to you. Not that he was of much use in any case.”

Giles put his hand on Roger’s shoulder, but removed it in reply to the cold stare he received. “Isn’t that a bit harsh, under the circumstances? He was your son, man.”

“We all learn to deal with our disappointments.” He gave Giles a hard look over. “Most of us learn to deal without resorting to the bottom of a bottle. A lesson my son, I gather, would have done well to learn. Good day, Rupert.”

Giles opened the door. “Goodbye, Roger.”

He sank back into his chair. Wesley had been a disaster as a Watcher, but he didn’t deserve this. And if Roger could make him feel like a five-year-old, he feared how it would feel to be his son.

How much of it was his fault? Should he have treated Wesley with more respect? Had he changed, grown working with Angel? Was the vampire really responsible for his death? In some way, was he? Perhaps he should phone LA and see if he could find out what had happened.

He had an overwhelming desire for a drink. He poured a stiff one into a glass, then hesitated. Perhaps Roger was right. Perhaps he should stop looking for answers in a bottle. He swirled the amber liquid in the bottom of the glass.

Then drank.


End file.
